


Rough and Tumble

by GrannyBoo



Category: Undeadwood (Web-series)
Genre: Creampie, Jealousy, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Safewords, Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, wall-sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: Clayton wasn’t anticipating it. Not at first, not with the awkward, almost shy way the Reverend made his advances (if he initiated any at all). Not with the way his skin flushed from cheeks-to-chest in the face of something as gently lustful as an open mouthed kiss. With how a whispered confession about what Clayton would do to the Reverend’s person behind closed doors dissolved Mason into a stammering mess. Or how it took until almost two months of over-the-clothes touching before Mason finally asked if Clayton was alright with them going further.Surprise: he was perfectly fine with it.So the sudden and aggressive way Clayton is shoved up again the wall of the Reverend’s room after a long day of dealing with outside ‘help’ (a contractor courtesy of Swearengen) is a little bit of a shock.
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 197





	Rough and Tumble

Clayton wasn’t anticipating it. Not at first, not with the awkward, almost shy way the Reverend made his advances (if he initiated any at all). Not with the way his skin flushed from cheeks-to-chest in the face of something as gently lustful as an open mouthed kiss. With how a whispered confession about what Clayton would do to the Reverend’s person behind closed doors dissolved Mason into a stammering mess. Or how it took until almost _two months_ of over-the-clothes touching before Mason finally asked if Clayton was alright with them going further.

Surprise: he was _perfectly fine with it._

So the sudden and _aggressive_ way Clayton is shoved up again the wall of the Reverend’s room after a long day of dealing with outside ‘help’ (a contractor courtesy of Swearengen) is a little bit of a shock.

“Whoa, Matthew-“

“_You don’t understand what you do to me sometimes_,” the broader man practically _growls_ and Clayton can’t help the delighted thrill at the sound but he quashes it for the moment in favour of the confusion at the accusation. He’d been nothing less than perfectly professional; dealing with the newcomer politely, provided he did the same, keeping an eye out for him. Sure he may have chatted to him a little, they worked in the same industry, it’s easy to get into swapping stories.

And sitting beside each other in the saloon.

And letting him touch Clayton’s arm as they laughed-

“…Were you _jealous?_” Clayton’s grin is wide and reminiscent of the proverbial cat until Matthew shoves his thigh between Clayton’s and presses him more firmly against the wall, the tips of the gunslinger’s boots barely touching the floor. Clayton lets out a surprised breath of laughter that he covers with his hand, feeling the Reverend go still against him before pulling back just enough to fix his normally doey brown eyes on Clayton’s. They’re molten now, intense and almost animal and Clay can’t help the sharp stutter of his heart against his ribs.

Normally in their _interactions,_ Clayton played the part of predator and the Reverend of prey. This is a new shift in their dynamic and Clayton can’t help but admit its obscenely hot.

“Don’t lie and tell me you weren’t doing it on purpose,” Matthew’s voice is low, less a sound and more a rumble against Clayton’s chest that mixes deliciously with the rasp of the Reverend’s still-gloved fingertips between the waist of his pants and his newly untucked shirt. “He was _touching you_. You never let people touch you.”

“That’s a- hah!” Matthew ducks his head down to start worrying a mark into Clayton’s neck while his hands busy themselves with divesting Clayton of his belt, and undoing his pants, giving himself just enough room to slide both of his hands down the back and grip his ass with a nearly bruising grip. _God he hopes its bruising._ “That’s a lie. The girls- _oh hmm_, the girls touch me. _Aly_ touches me,” he points out, the hands pressing in so their hips grind together and a small flash of teeth digs into his shoulder like a punishment or a reward, he can’t quite tell which.

“They’re different.”

So matter-of-fact and flatly delivered, even with the way his cock presses against Clayton’s thigh, painfully hard and scalding hot even through the layers of cloth while Clay feels like he’s one rough grind from coming in his pants like a teenager.

“How’re they different, pray-tell, Matthew?” Clayton asks and the sharp gasp he lets out surprises even himself when the Reverend’s gloved hands hoist him up further so he’s entirely suspended against the wall, legs wrapping firmly around Matthew’s waist. The proprietary way those hands grip his ass, the heated gaze the Reverend fixes on him, and the cooling saliva against his neck reminding him of the marks he’ll have later, all send his mind into an aroused haze.

“Because. They know _you’re mine_.”

“_Holy fuck_,” Clayton breathes, writhing against the other man as best he can with the way he’s full-body pinned against the wall, hands desperately grasping for anything, _everything_, he can touch; nails dipping below the collar of Matthew’s shirt to scrape across skin, burying itself in his thick dark hair and giving a light tug that gifts him with a small growl that reverberates in Mason’s chest. “So next time I wanna get man-handled, all I gotta do is get cozy with someone at the bar-?“

He’s against the wall one moment and thrown onto the bed the next, Mason looming over him with murder and lust in his eyes and he’s not entirely sure which is directed at him. And that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.

“Can’t say I’m all too fond of you throwing yourself at other people, even if its just to get me riled up,” the Reverend warns, something hovering underneath the words that gives Clayton pause. A sharp kind of hurt that cools the heat in his belly and makes his heart lurch a little.

“I didn’t mean it,” he assures, hating the way Mason pulls back a little, likes he’s remembering a wall he’d put up and is trying to piece it back together but Clayton puts his hands on Mason’s cheeks and digs his heels into the back of the Reverend’s thighs, pulling him close enough to press together from hip to chest, but resisting the urge to grind into him. “Cross my heart. I like the rough and tumble you’re bringing in but…I didn’t think there was any flirtin’ goin’ on with me and…” the name escapes him and the obvious gears turning in his head makes Mason chuckle a little, his forehead dropping to rest against Clayton’s shoulder.

“Honest, this is all…_very_ new for me. I didn’t think I could get that way. So…”

“Jealous?” Clayton replies, getting a hum in return. “Possessive?” Another stronger hum. “It wasn’t intentional. I promise. I’d never make eyes at someone else when my eyes are only on you,” he murmurs into the reverend’s hair. Matthew’s arms tighten a little more around him and he lets out this great full-bodied sigh and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees over Clayton, looking down at him with a gentle smile.

“Thank you. For puttin’ up with me,” Matthew says, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to Clayton’s lips.

“‘S only ‘puttin’ up with’ if it’s a burden. Ain’t nothin’ burdensome about lovin’ you, Matthew Mason,” Clayton’s lips curl up into a soft smile that never fails to make Mason’s heart skip a beat, no matter how many times he sees it across their pillows in the soft dawn light or half-hidden beneath his hat when they’re around the campfire, out on a job.

“So,” Matthew dips his head down to press his lips to Clayton’s jaw as he releases Clayton enough to slowly removes his gloves, his stubble grazing across the man’s skin and making him shiver in his arms. “You like it when I’m rough?”

“You have no idea,” Clayton’s voice is a breathy sigh as his legs tighten around Mason’s waist again. “I was about to come just havin’ you ruttin’ against me like that.”

“I suppose I could try my hand at it again,” Matthew’s voice is silken against Clayton’s throat, newly bared hands trailing over the small slivers of still exposed skin between Clayton’s pants and untucked shirt. “I need to know when to stop, can I trust you to tell me when to stop? Don’t want to break you.”

“You think you could?” Clayton asks, watching as Mason drifts further and further down his body, pressing kisses along the way as he unbutton’s Clayton’s shirt, then his belly, the vee of his hips while he unbuckles the man’s pants.

“I know I could,” Mason looks up at Clayton, that same heated, _animal_ look in his eyes that has Clayton shuddering and his cock hard and aching inside his smalls. “And I think you know that too. So you’ll tell me? If its too much, you call ‘mercy’. Promise?”

“Yes. Promise,” its less of a word and more of a breath as Mason starts to drag off Clayton pants, nails lightly dragging along the skin of his thighs, then his calves before he throws the pants across the room and returns his mouth to worshiping Clayton’s skin, nipping and licking at his thighs as he nudges them apart, then up over his shoulders. Clayton’s skin lights up and he lets out a quiet gasp as the reverend’s tongue traces the skin behind his balls, further down then-

“_Oh my god_,” he cries out, feeling the slick warmth of Mason’s tongue tracing over his hole, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass to spread him wider so his lover can press deeper and _if this is heaven, he’ll get on his knees and pray daily because he wants only this for the rest of eternity._

“Not quite. But you’re an angel if ever I saw one,” Clayton can practically hear the smile on Mason’s lips and he can definitely _feel_ it as the Reverend presses his lips to Clayton’s flesh again and he can’t help the way his heels dig into Mason’s upper back or how his knuckles strain under the pressure of how hard he’s gripping the sheets.

_“Matthew,”_ his voice is choked and he accidentally shifts a little further away as he writhes under the other man’s ministration but the groan he lets out when Mason grips his hips hard and drags him even closer is ragged and almost pained. “_Fuck. _Don’t stop, _please don’t stop_.” Mason’s fingers dig into his flesh and those will almost _definitely_ bruise and that just makes his heart race a little faster as he bucks against the reverend’s steel-hold on him and he’s never felt so at someone else’s mercy in his life. Its _addictive_ and Clayton thanks whoever up there that’s listening that Mason chose him because he’s sure as fuck not letting anyone else get a taste of piece of heaven he’s been gifted.

Then Matthew presses his fingers in alongside his tongue. The stretch is just the right side of painful and he brings one of his fists to his lips to bite down on, muffling his moans and whimpers at the onslaught just for the reverend to stop and pull his mouth away. Clayton doesn’t catch his words at first through the blood rushing in his ears but he opens his eyes and looks down at the man, focusing as best he can through the haze.

“Wha’?”

“I said, ‘don’t cover your mouth’. I wanna hear the pretty sounds you make,” he purrs, curling his fingers and making Clayton shudder beneath him. “You seemed to like when I was about to take you up against the wall…If you’re good and sing pretty enough for me, I’ll make sure that’s where you are when I come inside you.”

“But not _ngh_, not when I come?” Clayton gasps when Mason presses against his prostate, only able to buck up so far before Mason presses him down again, holds him there as he abuses the bundle of nerves.

“Not quite, sweetheart. Not _just_ there.”

“Some lofty promises you’re makin’, Reverend,” its difficult to maintain any semblance of his casual façade with the way Mason makes him shake and press against him, desperate for more skin on skin contact, desperate for completion. But he tries. And if the grin on Matthew’s face is any indication, it doesn’t work.

“Promises I intend to keep. I’m not fucking you until you’ve come at least once. Think you can do that for me, Clayton? Let me take you apart before I take you proper?” He asks, starting to fuck Clayton’s hole in earnest with his fingers, lips parting in a delighted smile at the way Clayton keens and twitches, trying his hardest to thrust up against something, _anything_, but Mason’s free hand curls around his hip and presses him deeper into the mattress and he _whines_ at the feeling. He releases the sheets and tries to reach for his dick just to have the hand on his hip snap to his wrist, holding firm.

“Tsk tsk. I said _I _wanted to take you apart. You want to deny me that pleasure?” Mason leans down, fingers sliding out of Clayton and leaving him empty and aching and begging-

“Sorry, ‘m sorry, please just- I need-…” his words break into a cracked whine as he bucks into nothing. “I’m so close, Matthew,” he looks up at his lover, cheeks flushed and looking perfectly debauched. Mason presses his lips against Clayton’s jaw and presses three fingers in, preening in the way Clayton’s face with his open mouth and raw cries are buried in his shoulder.

“‘Salright, sweetheart. You’re forgiven. Now you just have to come for me,” he growls in Clayton’s ear while he gathers his wrists together and holds them against the mattress, the fingers still buried deep in the gunslinger focusing on his prostate, abusing it and sending shocks throughout Clayton’s body. “Then I’ll take you to the wall and fuck you how you want. You want it rough? You want me to grip your hips ‘til they bruise? I’ll make sure you feel it tomorrow. Ain’t no ride tomorrow to blame, everyone’ll know someone fucked you nice and hard and they won’t think to touch you. ‘Cause you’re mine, Clayton. And I’ll fuck and fill you as many times as it takes to make sure everyone knows it,” Clayton pants and cries out, his voice rising in pitch and volume until it’s a shout as he comes all over his stomach, gasping for air while the reverend fingers him through it.

“Too much, Matty-“

“Do you want mercy?” Matthew asks, reminding Clayton of his word. Clayton bites his tongue and his cheeks darken. “Is it really too much? Or do you want to pretend it is? That you don’t love it when I leave you trembling beneath me, strung out and begging? Either tell me ‘mercy’ or tell me ‘more’, Clayton.”

“…More.”

Matthew smiles.

“As you wish,” he slides his fingers out of Clayton and beneath his hips, the one gripping his wrists cradling his upper back. “Legs around me, sweetheart,” he urges and Clayton follows the instruction, just as much because he’s told as it is to grind against Mason as he lifts him off the bed and carries him back over to the wall, shoving him against it just on the right side of rough. He lets out a pitchy gasp as Mason slips one arm from around him and busies himself with removing his belt and undoing his pants, the anticipation making his spent cock twitch between them.

He’s hard and leaking as he ruts into the crease of Clayton’s ass, bringing his hand up to Clayton’s mouth while he grinds against him.

“Suck.”

Clayton is quick to obey, tongue lathing over his finger, slicking them up properly with his eyes closed and hands desperately gripping at Mason’s shoulders, waist, hips- trying to get more friction, teasing his own hole with the head of Matthew’s cock.

“So desperate for me. You’re right, how could I possibly think you’d go to anyone else,” Mason’s voice is low and measure as he takes his slick fingers and trails them down, pressing them into Clayton slowly, stretching him as thorough and slow as he pleases. “Not when you’re so eager for me to fuck you like you deserve.”

“Matt. _Please. _I need it,” Clayton sobs, legs tightening and hips twitching as he’s opened up.

“Since you’ve been so good for me, sung so nicely…” Matthew lines them up and pushes into Clayton with one sudden, _hard_ thrust that almost knocks the air out of Clayton’s chest and its _perfect_. So is the next thrust. Then the next. Each one deep and just-enough-pain to mix with the pleasure. Mason’s right, how could he even think of anyone else; even if it was _just_ sex, no one’s taken Clayton to pieces the way Matthew has (both the slow and worshipful way and _this_), no one’s made him cry out with every thrust like this. Clayton can feel his cock making a valiant attempt at hardening, it should be too soon after he’d already come but the overstimulation is perfect and he can feel that pooling of heat in his gut growing. Matthew buries his face in Clayton’s neck, worrying more marks into his skin and speaking into the crook of his neck.

“‘You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble,’” he thrusts up particularly hard and Clayton lets out a shout that peters out into a keening groan and he can feel the smile pressed into his skin. “‘And surround me with songs of deliverance.’”

The punishing pace continues, Clayton’s nails dragging up Mason’s back or clawing at the wall for some purchase because it feels like he’s going to fall apart in the best way. Then Matthew’s rhythm falters and he hears the rising groans from his lover that means he’s approaching his release.

“Clayton- I need to- _fuck_,” Mason grunts, one arm wrapped around Clayton’s waist and the other’s fingers digging into his thigh to pull him closer, not that its possible with how he’s buried so deeply into the gunslinger. “Where should I-“

“In me, _oh god, in me, please_,” Clayton whines and just the thought of it, of Matthew’s come filling him, hot and branding and _himhimhim_ has Clayton screaming, his cock messing them up further from where its trapped between their bellies and Mason is quick to follow, hilt-deep inside him and coming with a ragged groan. His fingers dig into the flesh of Clayton’s thigh just-hard-enough while he thrusts a few more times, working himself and Clayton through their orgasms before he finally stops, panting against his lover’s throat.

“Lord above,” Matthew sighs, pressing his lips against Clayton’s throat, the hand on his leg relaxing and smoothing over the abused flesh. “You’re perfect, Clay. So perfect and good for me,” he murmurs, placing kisses over every inch he can reach before he captures Clayton’s lips in a languorous kiss. Clayton shifts in his arms and whimpers into his mouth at the feeling, legs tightening when Mason tries to release him and Matthew can’t help the small amused chuckle.

“If you’re tired, we can go on the bed,” Clayton suggests but doesn’t drop from Mason’s arms, instead he settles there like he intends to never leave, face hidden in his neck, arms locked around his shoulders and legs around his waist.

“Alright sweetheart,” he concedes, moving away with the wall and heading for the bed, careful not to dislodge the man in his arms as he struggles but eventually manages to get them into it and beneath the covers. Matthew reaches for a cloth by his bed and pulls out of Clayton, cleaning the mess as well as he can before throwing it to the side so he can wrap himself around Clayton again, lips pressed into his hair and fingers trailing absently up and down his spine.

“I love you,” Matthew murmurs, the comforting warmth of his lover in his arms helping his muscles loosen and his mind begin to drift, ready for a well-earned nap.

“Love you too,” Clayton replies, not quite ready to fall asleep but content to lie there in Matthew’s arms and listen to his heartbeat.


End file.
